


The James House

by alynwa



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 05:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8433274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: This was originally written for Rose of Pollux for the Live Journal MFU Scrapbook 2016 Halloween Challenge.  The picture is the prompt.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Rose of Pollux for the Live Journal MFU Scrapbook 2016 Halloween Challenge. The picture is the prompt.

 

They had escaped, though the cost of it had been high. Illya was currently driving a stolen THRUSH vehicle down a county road in the middle of the night in a mountainous section of West Virginia. Napoleon was slumped in the passenger seat, shot in the right arm and thigh. He would moan in pain whenever his partner hit a large rock or deep hole. Which was often.

It had been a case of Almost Murphy’s Law: Almost anything that could go wrong, did. They were able to overcome the guards, disarm them and get the keys to unlock their cell door. Unfortunately, one of the goons had managed to fall onto the switch that set off the klaxons in the satrapy. They managed to get outside, but more guards blocked their path. They found a car and while Illya worked frantically to hotwire it, Napoleon engaged in a gun battle with the enemy. When he heard the engine roar, he quickly turned to get in, only to get shot twice. But they were free.

Illya had dragged his partner into the car and then leaned across him desperately reaching to close the door as he crashed through the fence and drove away with gravel spitting in their wake. He hadn’t seen any other vehicles when they first burst out of the building, which fed into their theory that the satrap chief had left the facility with some of his minions, thus making it the best opportunity for escape they had since they had been grabbed.

They had not been blindfolded when they were transported to the satrap for questioning and the Russian had noted at the time that the road they traveled seemed to be the main one. He had no wish to run head on into returning birds, so he took a chance and turned on the high beams to search for anything resembling a turn off. He saw something up on the left that looked promising and turned into it. He stopped, quickly got out and broke out the brake lights. Jumping back in, he turned off the headlights, but kept the parking lights on as he kept driving deeper into the woods. He finally got to a point where the path had narrowed so much, he couldn’t go any farther. He shut the car off and looked at Napoleon.

The sky was cloudy with a full moon behind it and right now it was peeking out which cast an eerie glow around the woods. “Let me wrap your wounds,” he said as he got out and ran around to the passenger door. He opened it and encouraged the larger man to lie across the seat after he removed his jacket and shirt. He began to roughly undo Napoleon’s pants.

“Hey, hey! Not on a first date!” Napoleon quipped in mock protest even as he sucked in his breath to control his pain. “What are you going to use?” When the Russian started ripping his shirt into strips he complained, “That’s silk!”

“Stop your whining,” Illya answered. “You are fortunate. The wound in your leg is through and through and appears to have missed your femoral artery. The bullet is still in your arm, though. If I can find someplace safe, I can remove it.” He wrapped both wounds tightly and helped Napoleon sit up. As if knowing he was finished, the moon dipped back behind the clouds. The quiet dark was a bit unnerving as the Russian tried to figure out some options.

He stood and looked around. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could see some soft lights in the distance. “I think there might be a house farther down this path.”

“Well, don’t be too long. You know I get lonely.”

“Napoleon, you will have to come with me. Eventually, the chief bird and his detail will return, see what has happened and more than likely, launch a search. This car is not that far off the road.”

The CEA wanted to argue, but he knew his partner was right. Illya had slowed the bleeding, but that whole side of his body was throbbing. It wouldn’t do if he passed out from pain and was found unconscious. “Okay. Help me up.”

Illya assisted him in standing and then fastened his pants. He moved to Napoleon’s right side and put his arm around the larger man’s waist. “At least, my gun hand is free. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

The two men began walking down the path. Fortunately, it seemed that the trail they were on was heading directly towards the lights Illya had seen. They were moving slowly to accommodate Napoleon’s leg, but he was in obvious pain and sweating profusely. They stepped out of the woods and saw a large three story wooden house with a verandah wrapped around the first and second floors. There were lights lit on all three floors and two lanterns that allowed them to see the bridge over the river that had several boards missing.

“Looks like someone’s home, Tovarisch,” Napoleon gasped out. Truth be told, he felt he really couldn’t go much farther. “Hope the natives are friendly ‘cause they’re about to have company.”

Illya heard the strain in the man’s voice and allowed his partner to lean against him more heavily as they rested. He was afraid that if Napoleon attempted to sit, he wouldn’t be able to stand again, at least, not for awhile. “Moy droog, you will have to jump over the missing boards. I will help you, but we both know it will not be easy. We will take as much time as you need.”

The CEA nodded tightly. “Let’s do it. You’re right; birds could be after us at any time and we only have one ammo clip left. I’m hoping whoever’s there has a phone. We’re about an hour outside of Elkins and the nearest UNCLE office is a four hour drive out of Washington, DC. We could have an extraction team here by daybreak.”

“Sounds great. Let us go.”   They approached the first gap, which seemed to be two boards wide.

“You jump first, Illya, and I’ll follow.”

Illya placed one foot on the other side of the gap and easily balanced himself. “Take your time, Napoleon. We are almost there,” he said as his partner readied himself to hop across. “I have you.”

Napoleon hopped and could feel his partner’s strength helping him and taking some of the strain off the left side of his body. It took him a second or two to regain his composure, but he assured Illya he was fine, but by the time they cleared the sixth and final bridge gap, he felt like he was on the verge of collapse. “Oh God, Illya, how much farther?”

“Not too far. We are almost there. Stay with me, Napoleon!” the Russian urged as he bent and lifted the exhausted American and carried him up the six steps to the front door. He pounded and called, “Is anyone there? I need help! Please!”

He could hear movement from inside and though he hoped all the danger was behind them, he had tucked the gun Napoleon had into the small of his back and pulled his shirt to cover it. He had just grabbed his partner as he began to sag when the door opened to reveal a white – haired man who looked like he could be anywhere from sixty to one hundred years old.

The man took in the two men before him; the larger bloodied brunet barely conscious being held up by the smaller blond who was trembling from the strain, but holding him nonetheless. He swung the door wide and said, “Come in.” He reached out and took Napoleon’s uninjured arm and draped it over his neck. “Let’s get him upstairs to bed,” he said as he led the way. “Mother! Bring some sheets and blankets to the guest room! And my first aid kit! We have company!”

They reached the first landing, but instead of stepping into the second floor hallway, the older gentleman continued upstairs. The Russian groaned inwardly, but kept going without complaint. He was a little impressed that this man seemed to have little problem helping to carry Napoleon who was a lot heavier and more solid than he looked.

The third floor was more like a separate apartment than a guest room. The bed was flush against the wall directly underneath a round window that overlooked the bridge they had crossed so painfully. There was a full bathroom and even a kitchenette. Illya was about to comment when he heard footfalls on the stairs.

“Here I am, Hiram,” a voice called before the owner of it made her appearance. The woman, like her husband, could have been fifty – five, or a hundred and five; her white hair was piled on top of her head in a large bun. She had a set of sheets balanced in her arms with a first aid kit on top of it. She put everything on a chair and began to make up the bed by putting on the fitted sheet and after they had laid Napoleon on it, she covered him with the top sheet and blankets. Once she put pillowcases on, she looked at Illya. “I know my Hiram probably hasn’t introduced himself, but my name is Penelope James and Hiram here is a retired physician, so you’re in luck.”

“Thank you so much for your kindness, both of you.” Illya was about to introduce themselves using their aliases, but was suddenly struck by a feeling that the truth was the way to go. “My name is Illya Kuryakin and this is my partner, Napoleon Solo. We work for the United Network Command for Law Enforcement. He was hurt by some bad people we were able to escape and I am so sorry to have bothered you, but if you have a telephone, I can contact my organization. When they come to get us, you will be reimbursed for helping us.”

The couple looked at each other and grinned. “No need to pay us,” Hiram said, “We’re glad to help.” He removed the silk strips of Napoleon’s shirt Illya had used to bind the wounds. “That leg wound I’ll clean and rewrap, but that bullet really needs to come out of his arm sooner than later. I can do it, but I’ll need your help, young man.”

“Of course.”

“You’ll have to hold him down. I’ve got alcohol to sterilize my instruments, but nothing to dull his pain.” He noticed that Napoleon was coming around and patted his chest. “Do you understand, young man? I’m taking out the bullet with no anesthesia.”

“I understand. Do it,” Napoleon gritted out between clenched teeth, “My arm feels like it’s on fire.”

While the men were talking, Penelope had gone into the bathroom and gotten a bowl of warm water with a washcloth in it and some towels. She assisted her husband with cleaning the wounds and used fresh bandages to wrap Napoleon’s thigh. “Illya, is it? I want you to get behind your friend and put your back against the headboard. Yes, like that. Now, help Napoleon pull himself up on your chest. Good. Now, you can hold him still while Hiram is working on that arm. Here, Son, bite on this towel when the pain gets bad. I’m not going to lie to you: This is going to hurt, but it won’t last too long. I’m going to hold your arm still while Hiram’s working.”

The old man looked at everyone and said, “Ready? On three, Penny, you hold that arm, Napoleon, you bite that towel and Illya, you just hold on. Okay now, one, two, _three…_ ”

“ _Errrrrrrrrggghhhh!”_ Napoleon screamed into the towel as Hiram used his left hand to feel for the bullet’s location and the forceps in his right to dig into his arm to retrieve it.

The Russian, who had instinctively tightened his grip on his partner on _three_ , held his head against his partner’s in a silent effort to comfort him. He didn’t dare speak as he didn’t want to distract the doctor. He was amazed at Penelope’s strength; she held Napoleon’s arm straight easily even though he had tried to contract it.

“There we go!” Hiram said triumphantly as he held up the forceps with the bullet in it. “Got it!” He immediately placed a towel to staunch the fresh bleeding his probing had initiated. “We’re going to get that bandaged right up, I guarantee! Don’t worry.”

Napoleon had relaxed back onto Illya and was breathing heavily. “Th, thank you,” he said shakily.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Hiram said as he tossed the instrument and bullet into the now bloody water. “I don’t know about you, but all this activity actually has me a bit hungry.”

Napoleon’s sweat – stained face broke into a slight smile. “Who does that sound like, Illya?”

The Russian had been watching Penelope clean up and walk with the basin to the bathroom. _I am more tired than I thought, I thought she just dipped her head down and took a drink! She lowered her head when she used her leg to close the door, that is all._

Moments later, she re – emerged drying her hands on her apron. “It is a little past our dinnertime, dear. We’ll be eating shortly; as soon as I get food for our guests. Hiram and I got into the habit of eating very late by American standards when we spent a year in Barcelona, Spain. The earliest we eat is ten – thirty, but usually, we eat around eleven. It’s just gone past midnight, so we’re both feeling a bit peckish.”

“Again, we apologize for interrupting your evening.”

“Nonsense, dear boy! Hiram, help them get settled while I heat up some stew for them. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Hiram assisted Illya with making Napoleon comfortable. He knew the CEA was in no mood to eat, but truth be told, Illya was hungry.

As if he read the Russian’s mind, the old man said, “Penelope’s a good cook, one of the reasons I keep her around. She’ll be here shortly; I can smell the stew.”

That caused Illya to frown slightly, because he couldn’t smell anything. _Stress can play tricks on the mind._ He had heard the woman go down both sets of stairs and he had a feeling the kitchen was in the back of the house. _The house probably has vents where smells can travel up here._ He glanced at Napoleon and was heartened to see that he had fallen asleep.

“We were so busy before taking care of _him,_ that I never answered your phone question. No, there’s no phone, but we’ll arrange for a ride for you with the neighbors down the road. They don’t have a phone either and it don’t pay to try walking there in the dark.” He looked towards the stairs and spoke again. _“_ Before the old woman comes back,” Hiram said, “I want to ask a favor. She’s been good tonight, but sometimes, she has these spells where she doesn’t know what’s real and what’s not.”

“I am sorry.”

“I can handle her, but she becomes terribly embarrassed when other people see her that way, so I’m asking that once we go downstairs and close the door to this floor, please don’t come downstairs until daylight. I added the bathroom and kitchen up here because one time the grandkids came to visit and got scared to death because she had forgotten they were here and started screaming like a banshee when she heard them in the second floor bathroom in the middle of the night. She felt so bad…”

Illya put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I understand.”

Just then, they could hear Penelope coming. Again, Illya marveled at the ease with which she carried a tray containing a large covered bowl, a basket of bread, cutlery and a big glass of water. “Sorry, we don’t have any soda to offer. I brought two spoons just in case your friend gets hungry.” She lifted the cover and Illya could smell and see the venison, carrots, potatoes and spices.

“Take a bite, dear, and see if you like it.”

He did and had to force himself to stop long enough to say, “This is delicious. Thank you.” He began to eat again and was about to say something else when he noticed Hiram and Penelope both seemed to be listening to something. “Is something wrong?”

“Do you think your coworkers know where you are?”

“There is no way they could know. Why do you ask?”

“It sounds like people in the woods.”

Illya reached and turned out the lamp beside the bed and peeked out the little window. He couldn’t hear anything and for a moment, didn’t see anything, but then he saw a small beam of light moving around. “I think those are the people Napoleon and I escaped from looking for us,” he said. “Stay up here with my friend…”

“No,” Hiram interrupted. “ _You_ stay up here with your friend.” Illya turned to look at him and froze in fear and shock. There was something very different about Hiram’s eyes. They seemed larger and glowed in the dark somehow and were a little more hazel than the brown eyes that had greeted them at the door a few hours ago.

Penelope reached for the cover and placed it on the bowl, knowing that whatever hunger the slim blond man may have had was gone. “Save this for the morning. I know my husband told you to stay upstairs. Do as he says. Do _not_ come downstairs for _any_ reason before dawn. No matter what you hear. Those men chasing you may not even come to this house. If they do, they will not find you. In the morning, don’t look for Hiram or me. Just go. No one will stop you. You can probably use the same vehicle you left back down close to that main road.”

The moonlight shone through the small window and cast shadows about the darkened room. The Russian reasoned that must be why Penelope’s teeth seemed a bit longer than he remembered. “How do you know we left a vehicle anywhere?”

“We heard you.” The old couple stood and headed to the stairs. “Goodbye, Illya. Take care of Napoleon; you’ll both be fine here. I don’t think we’ll see each other again.” They went down the stairs and he heard the door at the bottom snick shut behind them.

He looked out the window again and saw at least six flashlight beams swinging back and forth on the other side of the river. He laid down next to his sleeping partner and pulled the covers over both of them. He had a feeling that whatever was going to happen, he would be better off not seeing.

He heard what sounded like a group of men crossing the bridge and then there was pounding on the front door. “Open up in there! Open up!”

Illya had pulled the gun from his waistband and placed it on the night table. He heard what sounded like at least six and maybe as many as ten men talking and milling about on the verandah. The murmuring stopped and he imagined the group leader attempting to intimidate Hiram into revealing they were hiding UNCLE agents. It was so quiet for a few moments that the Russian had begun to hope that the James’ had actually convinced the men no one else was in the house and they were leaving and he could dismiss the growing sensation he felt that somehow, the elderly couple wasn’t quite… _human._ Then the screaming started.

And gunfire. It sounded like one man, probably the head man, was being eaten alive. He screamed and screamed until mid – scream, he was silenced. He could hear the others running back across the bridge and heard a splash where at least one man fell into the water.

Then, he heard something like a combination howl, snarl and roar and all hell broke loose. It sounded like ravenous wild animals set loose among lambs. The screaming faded as fewer and fewer voices remained.

When all was silent, he could hear what sounded like large animals moving away from the house heading in the direction of the car he and Napoleon had been forced to abandon earlier. He had a feeling that if anyone were still at the satrapy, they would be dead soon.

He moved closer to his partner, who inexplicably remained asleep despite the carnage that seemed to be happening two stories below them. _I think your God would think me a little insincere if I recited the Lord’s Prayer in Latin.*_ Illya took comfort in his partner’s warmth when their bodies touched. He kept listening, but all he could hear now was the rustle of leaves in the breeze, a sound that eventually lulled him to sleep.

When he opened his eyes again, sunlight was shining through the window above the bed. Napoleon had shifted in his sleep and had his head resting on Illya’s chest. Illya patted his back gently. “Wake up, Napoleon. We need to get ready to leave.” The CEA’s eyes snapped open, a good sign. “How does your arm feel?”

“It’s been worse, I’ll tell you that much. Is there a phone here?”

“No, but I think we will be fine.” Illya moved away and uncovered the bowl of now cold stew. He took a piece of the slightly stale bread and dipped it. “Here, you need to eat something before we go.”

“This is great! We can heat it up in the kitchen.”

“Napoleon, trust me. We need to go. I am going to take a shower, but before I do, let me take you to the bathroom.”

Afterwards, he helped Napoleon back to the bed. “Eat as much as you can. When I get dressed, we are leaving. The James’ said not to look for them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know and I promise you will be told everything, when we are away from here.”

Illya showered and dressed himself while Napoleon ate and then helped the CEA back into his clothes. He wolfed down the rest of the bread along with the water and steadied Napoleon in preparation for going downstairs. He instructed the senior agent to stay behind him on the stairwell. When they reached the bottom, he gingerly opened the door, ready for anything. He just wasn’t ready for what he saw.

The entire second floor looked like it had been deserted for years. Dust covered everything. Cobwebs hung from corners.

From behind him, Napoleon gasped, “How can upstairs look so cozy and the second floor look like… _this?_ ”

The Russian didn’t answer. He had had enough of this place. He led Napoleon as quickly as he dared downstairs and out the front door. The comfortable home he had brought his partner to last night no longer existed. He had the distinct impression that if he went back upstairs, the guest room would match what he was now seeing. Broken windows, no signs of the lamps that had glowed warmly in those windows just hours ago, no furniture at all.

The air was chilly as they worked their way across the rickety bridge and back onto the path. “Illya, what’s your plan?” Napoleon asked.

Illya was pleased to hear the strength in Napoleon’s voice. Obviously, the bullet’s removal, a good night’s rest and some food had improved his health. “We are going to drive out of here in the car we were in last night. Hopefully, it has good heat.”

“What about THRUSH? Don’t you think we might run into them?” Something caught his eye and drew his focus to the ground. “Oh my God! Is that a _hand?_ ”

“I would not be surprised.”

“Illya, what the hell happened last night?”

“Not now, moy droog. But believe me, there is no one out here to stop us. We will get in the car, I will back it out to the main road, I will drive us to Elkins where we will contact the DC office and they will come.”

And it was as Illya said, except for one thing: When they made it back to the car, it was blocked in by the other THRUSH vehicles. Illya chose one and hotwired it. He took a moment to check the other vehicles’ contents and was able to find sweaters for them to wear and a cache of chocolate bars. By the time he got back into the car, it was comfortably warm and he began to drive.

A week later, Napoleon was out of Medical and home recuperating. Illya was staying with him, but working in the labs. He heard Illya’s special coded knock before the key slid home and unlocked the door. “I’m in the living room!” he called.

Illya appeared with a drink in one hand and a file folder in the other. “Hello, I take it you are feeling better?” At the CEA’s nod, he sat down and flipped the folder onto the coffee table so that it slid to a stop in front of him.

He picked it up. “What’s this?”

“Two reports. The first one is the one I have prepared for Mr. Waverly. The other is for our eyes only. It took me a couple of days to find that information.”

Napoleon picked up the first report and glanced through it. “That‘s what I remember: An elderly couple let us spend the night, he removed the bullet from my arm and we left in the morning.” He began to read the other report. His eyes widened at what was there. “Are you kidding me with this? You think they changed into some kind of animal and killed our pursuers?”

“I do not have a scientific explanation. I looked up the history of that house and according to it, back in the 1900s an elderly retired physician and his wife, Hiram and Penelope James, lived there. They were, by all accounts, well – liked and respected members of the community. According to legend, one Halloween night, they opened the door to what they thought were trick or treaters. Some say they were killed immediately. Others say whoever was at the door lied to gain access to the house before committing atrocities and murdering them. All the accounts I read say that once a year, on Halloween, they are there to answer the door. Truth tellers are treated well, while liars and evildoers…”

“And we were there October 31st.  Did this, I was so out of it…this happened, Illya?”

“I thought if I looked out the window and saw what I thought I was hearing, giant beasts eating THRUSH men alive, I would have gone mad. My mission at that point was to protect my CEA and get us out alive. When we came downstairs, the house was dead and deserted.”

“I believe you, Tovarisch. That hand on the ground told me the owner suffered a terrible fate, one we avoided because you told them the truth of who we are. Do you think they’d remember us if we went back next Halloween? It’d be good to have the supernatural on our side,” Napoleon laughed as he got up to fix himself a drink at his bar.

“I think I will take the kindness they showed us as a one – time offer. Sign Waverly’s report so I can take it with me in the morning.”

“You know, you’re very bossy when you’re playing nursemaid.”

“Shut up.”

*ref. my tale “The Truest Thing”


End file.
